


Bittersweet

by aseriesofessays



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Depression, F/F, Suicide, i cried a lot while writing this, teenage suicide: don't do it, this is not a happy fic, uh yeah i'm sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aseriesofessays/pseuds/aseriesofessays
Summary: If she'd known this was the last time she'd ever get to speak to her-God, maybe she'd remind Heather she loves her. Or kiss her on the lips. Or tell her how pretty she was, and how important, and how she makes the world bright with her sharp words and her soft grin, just for Mac.But she'd smiled and waved goodbye and Heather had been dead the next morning, in a shatter of glass.





	Bittersweet

When Heather died nothing mattered anymore.

She'd left her with a kiss on the cheek and a smile- "See you tomorrow, Heather, just come in through the back door. It's not gonna be locked." And Mac had smiled, and waved goodbye. If she'd known this was the last time she'd ever get to speak to her-

God, maybe she'd remind Heather she loved her. Or kiss her on the lips. Or tell her how pretty she is, and how important, and how she makes the world bright with her sharp words and her soft grin, just for Mac.

But she'd smiled and waved goodbye and Heather had been dead the next morning, in a shatter of glass, her throat half burnt away by drano.

And everything's so dull.

What's the point in living anymore without Heather at her side, squeezing her hand under desks on bad days and cuddling up to her when it's just the two of them? Her soft perfume had been gone when she was in the coffin, replaced with the sharp smell of chemicals and her least favorite red lipstick, the waxy kind that cracked. Mac wipes it off with her sleeve, so gently- Heather's mouth is cold to the touch, and all her soft give is gone- and lets her tears fall.

\--

_They'd met as little girls on the playground- Heather had been playing with her dolls, a red bow in her hair, and Mac had skipped up to her, sunny and bold as brass in that kindergarten way. "Hi, I'm Heather!" she'd introduced herself, smiling like sunshine, and Heather's big grey eyes had narrowed._

_"No,_ I'm _Heather," she'd insisted, but a giggle had been trapped in the words. She'd given Mac her yellow dolly and they'd held hands in the classroom, pudgy fingers clutched tight as they learned their numbers. She'd spent lots of time at Mac's, because her own parents were hardly ever there, and she'd been so sweet back then. She sucked her thumb until third grade but that was okay, 'cause Mac chewed on her stuffed bumblebee's leg._

_They'd grown up together, strawberry and lemon, and while they snapped at each other in public they'd been nothing but soft in private. Mac could look at her and see her sweet kindergarten girl, and their kisses were as soft and shy at the ones they'd exchanged on the playground._

_(There was always something so innocent about Heather, even with the boys she had to fuck to keep her rep up or the shots she threw back for the same reason. It was in her eyes when they were curled up together in bed, her giggle when they'd watch something funny, the way she got excited about the silliest things, like her succulent plant surviving for four years straight.)_

\--

Duke screams at her that she's pathetic and she can't help but agree- she's lost without Heather, floating. Every day she wakes up hoping it was all some horrible dream, that she'd get to school and Heather'd snipe at her about her hair and squeeze her hand under the table- but Duke's the one who's sniping, and she has Heather's bow in her hair and Mac's is so sick and so _tired_.

\--

_Sometimes Heather would stumble through her window and curl up in bed with her without explanation, soaked in alcohol and tears, and Mac would brush her hair out of her face and coo at her until they'd both fall asleep. She'd make pancakes in the morning and Heather's eyes would be so empty that Mac's heart would ache. They'd spend the whole day together, skipping school to watch movies- with happy endings, all of them- and Heather would cry, a little, but she'd leave with her eyes a little brighter._

_Helping- even a little bit- meant the world to Mac. She couldn't wait until they made it out of Sherwood, together, moved into an apartment in the city, where Heather wouldn't have to pretend and they could kiss and no one would care. That's what she clung to- making it out together._

_(Neither of them make it out at all.)_

\--

Duke screams at her that she's pathetic, and she nods.

\--

She locks herself in the bathroom with her sleeping pills in her shaking hand, and when she tips them back they're bittersweet.

**Author's Note:**

> send me prompts etc at ilovemydeadgaywife.tumblr.com :)


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